Skin Deep: Tattoo Removal

Emerson Javier Sanchez turned 25 last week. A snapshot of this marker in his life is an inspiring one. Sanchez is a second-year student at City College, and with the support of his family and his girlfriend of six years, hopes to soon transfer to San Francisco State University. Armed with a sturdy 3.5 grade point average, he plans to study abnormal psychology, or maybe become a writer

This is a stark contrast to the life of drugs and promiscuity that enveloped Sanchez after he joined a gang at age 13. When not toughing out the dangers of the street, he was in and out of Juvenile Hall. He never went to high school.

As a recovering drug addict and serious student now, the only remnants of Sanchez's former life are a supportive parole officer and the tattoo on his neck. But just like the parole officer who won't be around much longer, the tattoo is leaving Sanchez's life along with everything it symbolizes.

Every few months, it fades a little more.

When Sanchez was 16, he thought the coolest thing would be to get his gang nickname tattooed onto his neck. "I guess most of my friends already had tattoos, a lot of them were older, and it was a normal thing to do," he said.

Recalling his choices with regret, he states with an accepting tone. "I would make my own decisions, and reap the consequences later."

Later came 2 years ago. On a Saturday morning in San Mateo, Sanchez sat in the waiting room of a clinic with other ex-gang members. All were willing to undergo painful laser treatments to remove relics of a history they'd rather zap away. When the girl sitting next to him started describing the pain, he nearly backed out.

"Emerson Javier Sanchez." His name, his turn.

Sanchez describes the painful sensations of that day in detail. "The doctor told me to take deep breaths so it wouldn't hurt as bad," said Sanchez. "Then it started. At first it felt like electric shocks and it made this clicking noise as the laser hit my skin. I started to smell burning flesh. It felt like they were using a torch to burn off my tattoo. The pain was so intense he did half of the tattoo and stopped, then he did the other half. After he was done he rubbed some polysporin on my neck and patched it up."

The session lasted five minutes. They told him it would take nine or ten more treatments to completely remove the tattoo.

"I feel much better now because I don't feel like I'm stereotyped when I go places anymore. e anymore. Everything it symbolizes is not in my life anymore."

It's barely visible now, but he continues to go for the excruciating treatments. According to Sanchez, the physical pain isn't the worst part about it. He cautions youngsters who are considering permanently marking themselves.

"Nothing good can come out of putting a gang-related tattoo on. You get into problems with people you don't even know. It's something that cripples you."

Sanchez used to have another gang tattoo on his hand. He burned that one off with a cigar.

The "Tattoo Removal" program is funded and organized by San Mateo Juvenile Hall. To qualify for free tattoo removal, ex-gang members must first complete 20 hours of community service. "You have to show them you're committed," Sanchez said.

The volunteer work in exchange for tattoo removal turned out to be a rewarding experience for him. "I ended up doing a summer camp for kids at my church, and it was a great experience. I felt really sad because the kids didn't want me to leave, and I didn't either."

The non-profit Central American Resource Center (CARECEN) in San Francisco offers a similar service to former gang members wishing change their lives. Their "2nd Chance Tattoo Removal Program" is funded by the Department of Public Health, Department of Juvenile Probation, and the Mayor's Office.

Marissa Guardaro of CARECEN said they provide more than tattoo removal. They do case management, vocational training, job placement, and counseling. "People come because they want to be better role models, or symbolically remove a past lifestyle," she said.

Sanchez is in the midst of his metamorphosis into the person he seeks within himself. The pride that replaces regret in his voice is almost tangible when he talks about his life. "I do have regrets, and what's more, I've changed my life. It's been pretty rough." He pauses to mentally survey the years of obstacles he's overcome. "I'm a recovering drug addict. To be stuck in one lifestyle for 12 years or more, is hard to get out of. And then to go to school and have a social life is scary and difficult. It can get lonely. Some days it's harder than others, but you get through it and everything turns out for the better."

Concealed beneath Sanchez's black T-shirt is another tattoo.

"It's my last name," he said. "It's the one I'm keeping."

Commitment Can Become a Nightmare

By Lubna Takruri
Guardsman Staff Writer

Halloween conjures up images of all that is scary to kids: spiders, witches, and razors in shiny red apples. For adults, regret is a pretty big fear, and regretting a tattoo is often followed by a frightening procedure.

Getting zapped with a laser may sound like some intergalactic horror of the future. Now, the beam of modern science is pointed at tattoos, causing them to perform a disappearing act ­ after a lot of pain and money.

The smell of burning flesh was in the air as City College student Javier Sanchez tried to relax and ignore the searing pain on his neck. "The only way I can describe it is a little machine that looks like a vacuum. It has a hose and that's where the laser comes out. They tell you to breathe in and out and try to relax, and that's when the laser hit my neck. There was a burning smell; it smelled really nasty. My neck was throbbing afterwards. They tell you to eat first because you can pass out from the pain afterwards." He said the pain was unbearable compared to that of getting the tattoo.

San Francisco resident Sherry Garcia agreed. "It was the worst pain I've ever felt," she said, "It was a hundred times worse than getting the tattoo."

SUBDERMAL SHATTER

Q-switched lasers created 10 years ago specifically for tattoo removal, shoot pulses of highly amplified light. The beam passes harmlessly through the first layer of skin and reaches the ink in the dermal layer. "These are incredibly powerful instruments. The laser shatters the tattoo pigment and the body chews it up and sweeps it away," said Dr. Roy Grekin, head of the UCSF Dermatological Laser Surgery Center.

Garcia described what that means in terms of sensation. "It's like a little mini-explosion under your skin. It's worse over bone because there's not much there to absorb the pain." Her tattoo happens to be on the ring finger her right hand.

MULTIPLE ZAPS

Garcia and Sanchez both got their ink done when they were teenagers. Now, they can each look forward to many visits to a laser clinic.

"The first thing I tell people is that I can't tell them how many treatments they'll need," said Dr. Grekin.

Michelle, who would only divulge her first name, is the receptionist at the Laser and Skin Surgery Center in Sacramento. She informs those of the time it takes to zap away marks meant to be permanent. "We tell people to count on at least eight (treatments), and that's for a single tattoo that's old and faded," she said.

COSTLY STING

The common description from both doctors and patients is the feeling of a rubber band snapping against the skin. Or like a rubber band holding a wad of cash.

Even the guy taking your money will tell you the truth. "The worst thing about the procedure is that it's so expensive," said Dr. Grekin.

Full treatment runs on average $3,000 depending on the colors and the size of the tattoo. Black and blue ink absorbs the most light, making those colors the easiest to remove.

Removing a tattoo used to be even more painful physically before the late 1980's. The only methods for getting rid of unwanted tattoos involved completely removing the ink-infused skin. Methods of removal included dermabrasion (the top and middle layers of skin are sanded off), cryosurgery (the freezing and removal of skin); or excision, (the skin is removed with a scalpel).

BEAUTIFUL BEAST

With lasers, nothing actually burns. An intense energy beam shatters the tattoo pigment only. According to Dr. Grekin, neither the surrounding skin nor body hair is affected. "The beauty of this is that there's almost never scarring," he said. The other possible side effect is a temporary loss of pigmentation.

"It gets really nasty looking. It's heat, so the stuff seems to boil and giant blood blisters form and come up," said Garcia. The result of treatment is a temporary combination of bubbly-red skin, blistering, bruising, and itchy scabs ­ a perfect Halloween accessory.

ABSORBING THE BLACK AND WHITE OF PERMANANCE

By Lubna Takruri
Contributing Writer

Photo by Lubna Takuri

Tattooing is an art form rooted in tribalism, which has been practiced for thousands of years. Other adornments such as piercings, green hair, or torn jeans may be easily left behind, but tattoos carry the connotation of permanence.

Although lasers enable tattoos to be removed, before going under the needle, people should hear what Dave Brobrick has to say.

Brobrick is the proprietor and an artist at One Shot Tattoo on 9th Street and Irving in San Francisco. He takes pride in his artistry, knowing that he is giving his clients something that is meaningful and serves as a marker to the past.

"The tattoo represents something in your life that is who you were, what you were about. You can't erase your history. It's there," Brobrick says.

Brobrick stresses how important it is for tattoo bearers to realize the permanence of the art on their bodies. He compares asking a tattoo artist about removal to throwing away a beautiful wedding cake in front of the baker.

"If someone comes in and they even bring up lasers or ask about removal, I'm done. I won't tattoo them," Brobrick says, "You shouldn't be getting the tattoo if you're already thinking about having it removed in the future."

A Spooky Place in San Francisco Photos by Colleen Cummins Anton Szandor LaVey (1930-1997) was the notorious High Priest of the Church of Satan and author of the "Satanic Bible" and the"Satanic Witch". LaVey claimed that he was exposed to the savageness of humanity while working for the SFPD as a photographer in the early 1950's. He also studied criminology at City College of San Francisco during the Korean War. So the legend goes, LaVey purchased a house in San Francisco at 6114 California Street in the Outer Richmond between 22nd and 23rd Avenues in 1971. It would later become the headquarters of the Church of Satan. At one time, LaVey clamied to have hundreds of members in his Chuch of Satan, including Jayne Mansfield, actress and Hollywood sex symbol who allegedly had an affair with LaVey and also Rat Pack comedian and singer Sammy Davis Jr. LaVey painted the house with black submarine paint and claimed the house was honeycombed with trapdoors and secret passageways. After losing the house in a divorce from his wife, he subsequently died on October 31, 1997. Now, the infamous "Black House" is slated to be demolished by the city. LaVey's son, Alex, passes the house everyday on his way to work. He says," It will be a shame to see it torn down. Probably only to be replaced by high priced condos." The black house is beyond repair and has no prospective buyers. It sits in the Outer Richmond only to have trash tossed over the fence which surrounds it, and is often targeted by passers-by whom have grafffittied the mailbox with "Jesus Rulz" and "Money Sucks". Not a bad place for a black cat to hang out on Halloween weekend.